We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed
by xSlytherclaWx
Summary: Despite what it may have seemed to some, Alfons Heiderich was never in want of money...
1. Chapter 1

**note:** so the title was a last-minute decision and is subject to change because frankly, I'm not too fond of it. however, I love Los Campesinos! and the title fits, so why not? This is going to end up with two or three chapters and is not HeiEd. Sorry. The first chapter's pretty neutral, though.

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Despite what it may have seemed to some, Alfons Heiderich was never in want of money. Funding, sure – materials for rockets were expensive and Dr Oberth's work was still theoretical at best – but never money. He was surprised that his roommate didn't wonder. He never worked, after all (aside from working on rockets, that is, but Ed knew very well that he earned no pay from that). What's more, he _had a car_. _Had_ being the operative word (as Ed had wrecked it, predictably). It hadn't even been a particularly _bad_ car, and surely that was a clue. After all, he'd heard of other Junker sons having cars whose doors were wired shut and that would stall in the middle of the street. However, they probably hadn't inherited all of their father's fortune (his father was a second son, and, as primogeniture dictated, he had had to earn most of his money, but... it was still more than any other young man his age, he was sure). For god's sake, he was _s__eventeen_ and renting an apartment with a guy who was quite probably insane (due mostly to a favour from the man's father, who reminded him too much of his own father to deny).

Perhaps it was for the best. He didn't particularly want to talk about his past, before Munich and before Edward.

It had been happy enough, at first. A manor in the countryside with his mother, father, brother, and even servants. His older brother had been somewhat condescending at times, but the two almost always got along quite well. When they didn't, Alfons would just spend more time with his friends amongst the servants (his father was more amused at his youngest son's lack of elitism than angry). His mother was doting and his father gave the boys everything that they could want. However, due to Junker tradition, he felt inclined to serve in what would become known as the Great War: the greatest tragedy to befall Germany in Alfons's opinion.

Not because of the loss of national pride and dignity, increase of national debt, and rapid inflation. While that was all rather annoying, what Alfons really loathed about the war was that his father came home in a casket.

...They were amongst the lucky ones, apparently.

The media had said that they were doing so well! Everyone was certain that Germany would win, and that the "boys" would come home within a month... but they kept enlisting more and more soldiers and more and more people Alfons knew from parties and whatnot were leaving.

His father hadn't even been a footsoldier! He had been a _general_! Generals weren't supposed to die in battle! Not against _France_ of all countries!

And then... his brother had gone off. Not even to _fight_, but because Alfons had fallen ill, and Eduard had taken it upon himself to be the man of the family.

He never came back, and they never found his body.

His mother was absolutely distraught, and, when the Spanish Influenza outbreak occurred, Alfons knew that she wouldn't make it through it. She was young (at least, young enough to be affected by it), and, honestly, Alfons had been the only one that was keeping her going.

It was 1919. Alfons was thirteen years old.

His uncle arranged for him to attend a gymnasium in Munich. He'd stay with him and his family. He hadn't wanted to move, but his uncle made it quite clear: he either went to gymnasium in Munich or he'd end up in an orphanage. Of course, Alfons's uncle had had no intention of actually sending his nephew off to an orphanage, but an empty threat never hurt...

Alfons had agreed on one condition: Wilhelmine could come along. Wilhelmine was the daughter of Alfons's old nurse – she had caught the influenza from his mother and died even before her. Wilhelmine's father had been a doctor who had been called off in the war and never returned (not even in a casket; it made Alfons realise that his family really _was_ one of the lucky ones).

His uncle had been hesitant, but Alfons was adamant: Wilhelmine went with him or he didn't go at all.

There was no getting around it.

The girl was immensely grateful for Alfons's help, and promised his uncle that she could help the maids – there was no reason to have someone wait on _her_, when she was a common girl living in a house full of Junkers. She was quick to help, and was surprised when his uncle offered to put her into a gymnasium. "It'd be a shame for such a bright girl to end up a personal maid," he'd said. (It had really been due to the prompting of the man's wife, but he hadn't told the girl that). Wilhelmine studied to become a doctor, like her father. It wasn't exactly socially acceptable, but, considering all that had happened to her, it wasn't surprising – at least not to Alfons.

His uncle hadn't died in the war, though he'd fought. Alfons couldn't help but feel like that was slightly unfair; why did his father have to die while his uncle lived?

The things that his uncle had seen, however, had greatly changed the man. Granted, Alfons didn't remember much from before the war – he'd been a small child, after all – but he wasn't the same. He was distant and standoffish, and spent the majority of his time locked in his study.

Alfons's aunt, therefore, had total control of the household, which meant a tremendous amount of stress. Alfons wasn't entirely sure how she handled it – especially when she always managed to have a smile on her face.

From an early age, Alfons had been interested in space. The stars at night were beautiful from his country estate, and, sometimes, Munich was dark enough at night to get a decent look at some of the stars with a homemade telescope. A publication from a Romanian engineer caught his attention – the man claimed that rockets were the way to get to the moon! Rockets! Alfons managed to push his way through gymnasium early – and he passed the arbitur without any trouble. After that, he went to study in Romania with Dr. Oberth.

Oberth... wasn't quite what Alfons expected. He'd assumed, for some reason, that the doctor would be an outgoing, enthusiastic person, but he was rather pessimistic and critical. However, his intelligence was far more astounding than Alfons had bargained for.

Another person studying with Dr. Oberth proved himself to be exceedingly intelligent, and, as such, caught Alfons's attention.

His name was Edward Elric... and, if Alfons wasn't wrong, he was related to his old professor Elric. When asked, Edward's reaction left no doubt in Alfons's mind that he was right. He just wondered why the boy seemed to hate his father so much. Alfons had loved his own father, and Wilhelmine had loved hers, just as his cousins loved theirs. It was strange, he thought, that someone could hate their own father.

After speaking to Edward a few times, however, it became clear to Alfons that the other teen wasn't quite right in the head. He spoke of another world, another life. He wanted to get back to _his_ world, as he called it, and believed that Oberth's intelligence and theories of rocket-powered space travel was the way to accomplish it. He'd often babble to Alfons about the people he knew in this world of his – what was unnerving was that the people Edward described seemed to be people that he met every day.

This Winry of his (_just_ a friend, he said, which confused Alfons to no end – she was _fictional_, it didn't matter if she were just a friend) reminded him very much of Wilhelmine: smart, caring, pretty, and incredibly headstrong. He described a brigadier general (or, rather, a lieutenant colonel in his life) who reminded him of a police officer who patrolled his new neighbourhood. The brigadier general's wife seemed to be the very same flower shop keeper who rented him his apartment. And his brother... Edward's brother seemed to be very much like Alfons himself. In fact, he wondered if it wasn't merely transference at all. It was all very bizarre, and Alfons had to half-wonder if Edward were telling the truth, as he so adamantly claimed to be.

However, he found himself drawn to Edward. Perhaps it was because he was reminded of his own brother, who had been much older than he was, and not too much younger than Edward was now. It was strange; Edward was clearly not entirely mentally sound, yet... Alfons couldn't help but spend time with him. It was almost like having his brother back.

Professor Elric had asked Alfons if he'd be so kind as to take Edward in. Alfons accepted, in part because Professor Elric reminded him of his own father, and in part because Edward reminded him of his own brother. He was surrounding himself with ghosts of his past, it seemed, and he really didn't mind. He just made sure to keep in mind that Edward was not Eduard, and Professor Elric was not Theophil Graaf Heiderich.

Edward had no idea, of course, that Alfons was a Junker. Why would he? He didn't seem to recognise any names, and Alfons didn't have the "von" title before his surname (his family was much too new for that, but perhaps soon, if the government would just restore the Kasierreich and get rid of this ridiculous Weimar Republic.) Alfons didn't bother to tell him – what did it matter? He didn't use his name for privilege, anyway.

It was still strange that Edward hadn't picked up on it. Alfons didn't really make any attempt to _hide _it; he was rather apathetic toward his roommate's knowledge of his rank. He'd have thought that the car and the money that came seemingly from nowhere would have caused Edward to pose questions, but he was wrong in that. It was almost unnerving how blasé Edward was toward it; it made Alfons wonder, again, if perhaps he wasn't insane, and really had come from some other world.

He didn't _act_ German, after all. He didn't have the sense of national pride. He felt no shame in the Treaty of Versailles. He wasn't outraged by the reparations that were so unjustly imposed. He didn't understand what the loss of German land meant. He didn't see the difference between Germans and _gypsies_.

Alfons considered himself a very reasonable young man. He didn't loathe gypsies like most Germans, having learnt from his mother that just because someone was different didn't mean that they weren't human, but that didn't mean that he considered them on the same level as Germans. They were fully human, of course, but they shouldn't just assimilate into German society – they weren't like the Jews, who just looked slightly different (and some of them could pass for full-blooded German) and had been wise in how they'd handled their money during the war. German Jews were just as German as he was, as far as he was concerned, but the gypsies were nomads who certainly didn't belong in the (once) great nation.

But enough of that. Introspect was only so useful. It never helped to dwell on the past, after all. Best keep his mind on the future; he'd get into space. Maybe he'd even get into this crazy world that Edward talked about where they might have a cure for him. He had to get these rockets perfected, and that meant massive funding. He was willing to get it from anywhere – well, anywhere German. He had his sense of national pride, thank you very much. If only the Weimar would learn that rockets, seemingly the only technology _not_ banned by that ridiculous treaty, were the thing of the future. If Germany could get a man into space, then they'd certainly regain some national pride. What's more, if Alfons was one of the engineers, then his name would go down in history, and he would not have lived in vain. He'd leave a mark on the world, and maybe even go into space himself.


	2. Chapter 2

A knock on the door drew him out of his reverie. That's right. Wilhelmine was coming today, to check up on him. She'd taken it upon herself to become his own personal doctor, though he reminded her constantly that he didn't need it. If the most experienced doctors in Germany couldn't give him a diagnosis more advanced than "a sort of non-contagious consumption" then he highly doubted that Wilhelmine, not even graduated from gymnasium, could give him a better diagnosis.

Still, he answered the door with a smile on his face. "Hello, Wil," he greeted, kissing her on the cheek. "How have you been?"

"Not so bad," she replied, entering the apartment. "Studying for the arbitur is killing me, though. How did you manage it?"

"Determination," Alfons said. There was really no other explanation. It was sheer determination, to be the best, to be remembered, to get into space, that had gotten him through gymnasium and the arbitur three years early.

"I've got that. I think it was your remarkable intelligence," Wilhelmine mused. "Perhaps the determination _helped_, but you wouldn't have managed it without intelligence."

"You're just as smart as I am," he assured her. She was, really. She'd just wanted to learn all that she could, unlike Alfons, who only wanted to learn what interested him. He'd gotten sick of literature and English and French, and had only wanted to learn physics and mathematics. Wilhelmine wanted to learn it all.

Wilhelmine blushed and smiled. He was too kind, really. She'd be in an orphanage somewhere without him and his kindness, not on her way to passing the arbitur and going to university. "Shall we go to your room, then?"

Alfons nodded, blushing slightly. He knew exactly why Wilhelmine wanted to go into his room; he wasn't totally oblivious to women. This happened every time, after all. Not that he was complaining. He repented every time, anyway, so there was really little danger of going to hell for it. What a stupid thing that would be to go to hell for, when she was so pretty and smart and lovely.

She followed him into his room, and he locked the door behind her, replacing the key on the desk where it had been. "Well, then..." he said softly.

"Sit down and take your shirt off, will you?" she implored, pulling out some medical equipment. "I want to check your vitals."

He had no idea why in the world this got her so worked up every time, but he did as he was told.

She frowned upon seeing his body. "You're losing weight. Are you eating?"

"Of course I'm eating. I just... haven't got as good an appetite as I've had..." He hadn't thought that he'd lost that much weight, but if Wilhelmine had noticed it straightaway...

"Eat more, okay? I know it might be hard, but you need to make sure that you get enough food. It's not like you haven't got the ability to get as much food as you need."

Alfons nodded. "I'll try."

"No. No _trying_. You're _going_ to eat more, Alfons. You need to gain weight. If you keep losing at this rate..." she bit her lip.

"Right, yeah. I'll eat more," he assured her. He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips, kissing them. "You have no idea how grateful I am for everything that you've done for me, Wil. I'll make sure to eat more."

"Don't just eat _more_. I know you. Don't stuff yourself with sweets. Make sure to get some vegetables and meat in you, too."

He smiled. "I know _that_, Wil."

Wilhelmine blushed furiously and pulled her hands from his. "I need to check your vitals."

Why in the world had _that_ gotten her worked up? Alfons sighed and did as he was told as Wilhelmine went through the standard procedure that they both knew would be no different from last time, or the time before that...

"I really want to figure out what's wrong with you," she murmured after she'd finished, sitting down in his lap. "You mean so much to me, Alfons, and I'd absolutely hate to lose you."

"I know, Wil. I don't want to go, either."

"Even though you'd be with your family?"

Alfons chucked. "Eduard would beat me to a pulp for dying so young."

Wilhelmine smiled, though she didn't seem relieved at all. She began undoing her hair, and kissed him. Alfons wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back. He ran his hands through her golden locks, and frowned when she stood up.

"Help me out of this?" she asked with a smile. He returned her smile with one of his own, standing up and unbuttoning her dress, taking his time to do it. He leaned down and kissed her neck.

"You have no idea how much I want to marry you," she whispered. "But I can't, even if you _weren't_ sick..."

"Shhh..."

Alfons helped Wilhelmine out of the rest of her clothes (really, he never understood why women felt the need to wear so many clothes; it was ridiculous and entirely impractical) before picking her up and laying her down on his bed. He rolled her stockings down and took them off, kissing her legs as he did so. Alfons then stood up and finished undressing himself quickly, so that he could get back to Wilhelmine as soon as possible. He kissed her all over, trailing his hands all over her body. If he was going to sin, he might as well enjoy it, right?

It was just a shame for her... that she'd fallen in love with him. He was going to die, anyway, and making love to a pretty girl would hardly ruin his entire reputation. Hers, however...

It wasn't like no one would find out; if she did get married, some day, she would certainly be found out. Even if she didn't get married, it wasn't like no one would ever find out. It would come out one way or another.

But it was best not to think about that now. It was best not to think of anything now, but her here and now, in the present, the two of them together, if only for a short while.

He continued to kiss her all throughout. He loved kissing her, her soft skin and lovely curves, her red lips and blushing cheeks, all of her.

Afterward, they cuddled. They always did. And they talked. It was the talking that ruined the mood, really, because it just reminded them that he was most likely _dying_, and that, even if he weren't, he was a Junker and she was a commoner. Even though the Kaiserreich was gone, he doubted that the aristocracy would take kindly to him marrying a commoner.

But God, how wonderful it would be to marry her... She was so sweet and smart and lovely. She'd be a wonderful wife. No, it was more than that; she'd be a wonderful _partner_. They did compliment each other wonderfully. They were in love.

Then again, who married for love? Alfons had never met _anyone_ in the aristocracy who had married for love. He supposed that the ones who had must have married below them, and, as such, weren't fit for society.

It wasn't as if Wilhelmine didn't know how to behave like a lady. Even though she was a commoner; she'd been raised around Junkers. True, she wasn't on the same level as Alfons, but she'd at least managed to pick up on some of it. Perhaps she might be able to pull it off...

No.

That was a dangerous train of thought.

He wasn't going to marry her. Simple as that. If, by some miracle, he did live, he would probably end up marrying some count's daughter and living in his family's country manor. It wasn't as if either of them were willing to risk running away. Alfons wasn't even sure that he'd last a journey to another country; that's not even to mention the anti-German sentiment that he knew was all over the world right now.

It was just safer to stay this way. Close friends on the outside, lovers behind closed doors. No marriages or futures together.

But that didn't mean that it was easier.

It was so much harder than he would have thought. Even then, as she was cuddled up next to him, part of him wanted nothing more than to run away with her, to be with her forever.

Fortunately, there was a part of him that was much stronger: his ambition.

He was going to be remembered. Not as some fallen Junker's son, but as Alfons Heiderich. Rockets seemed the way to get there. Imagine being the first person to send something into space. People would never stop talking about him. He wouldn't have lived in vain.

Wilhelmine shifted slightly; she nuzzled into him some more. "I love you," she murmured, even though she knew how dangerous that was. He could tell that she was about to drift off to sleep because she had relaxed entirely.

"I love you, too, Wil," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

Wilhelmine sighed and smiled.

Alfons felt a dull ache in his chest that had nothing at all to do with his illness.


End file.
